A visitor might admire the genteel wave
of pink clustered blossoms sashaying
down the hill, leaping the double tractor
path to tumble murmuring over the cliff.
“Pretty Clover, that.” They might say
but even the most polite gardener will
correct, “No, it’s Vetch. Not something
to ever invite into your garden. Root
systems like capillaries.” A panic rising
in her voice. “You can never get rid of them,
ubiquitous, like bindweed, morning glory or
kudzu - can bury your house in vines!”
I take a bloom, separate one petal,
miniature sweet pea, lavender wing lifts off
a pale cloak, yet hidden within, blue blood
tipped, a curving scimitar, a pirate’s seed.
I s l and Ve t ch
Vetch 170 / 171
the genteel wave
of pink clustered blossoms
sashaying down the hill,
1...,154-155,156-157,158-159,160-161,162-163,164-165,166-167,168-169,170-171,172-173 176-177,178-179,180-181,